


You'll Find a Way

by grantaire_the_cynic



Series: AU Prompts [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: E/R - Freeform, Gen, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantaire_the_cynic/pseuds/grantaire_the_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are at a rally when things go wrong.  ((sorry, I'm bad at summaries.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Find a Way

Grantaire watched Enjolras walked around, congratulating all the Amis on their successful rally. Grantaire pulled him into a tight hug. "You did good, babe." 

Enjolras smiled, kissing Grantaire gently. “Thanks, we all did good.” 

They were mingling with the remaining crowd when suddenly they heard shouting and screaming. Several shots were fired somewhere and the crowd began running this way and that. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ hand tightly and began pulling him away from the commotion. Enjolras tried to walk towards the fray, but Grantaire’s hold was firm. Suddenly the crowd shifted and they were swallowed by it. 

It was chaos, confusion. Bodies running in every direction, people screaming, the sound of fighting, gunshots, and angry swearing. Grantaire held tightly to Enjolras’ hand as he tried to navigate the crowd, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to take cover. He saw a pub and headed that way, scanning the crowd for any of their friends. They were nearing the building when the shots sounded uncomfortably close. Grantaire broke into a run, squeezing Enjolras’ hand so tight that his hand was cramping. The crowd swelled by the door, preventing them from getting inside. Grantaire pulled them towards the side of the building, looking for any kind of shelter, as another volley of shots echoed somewhere to their right. 

Grantaire leaned against the building, catching his breath. He was too out of shape for this, despite Enjolras’ efforts to make him start jogging. He had given up the bottle for him, but jogging was not going to happen.  
Grantaire looked over at Enjolras. He looked pale. Grantaire gasped as Enjolras collapsed to the ground, a hand pressed to his chest. Grantaire rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms. He moved Enjolras’ hand and saw a large red stain growing on his shirt. Grantaire yanked off his jacket and pressed it to the wound. Enjolras gasped in pain. 

“Hang on, stay with me.” Grantaire frantically scanned the crowd for a familiar face- particularly Combeferre or Joly. A woman called for an ambulance. Grantaire thanked her with a nod. He turned back to Enjolras, 

“Help is coming, you’ll be fine.” 

“Grantaire,” he said, weakly, reaching up to brush his cheek, “‘Taire. This was...” he grimaced, “not... not how I imagined the...rally ending.”  


“Shhhhh, you’ll be fine, just stay with me, ok?” he pressed his jacket harder over the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Enjolras spasmed and grimaced in pain. 

Grantaire choked back tears, “Stay with me, Enj, help is coming,” he saw Combeferre and Courfeyrac walking towards them, “hang on, Enj, just hang on.”  


“‘Taire,” Enj said weakly, “I can’t...” his breathing was shallow. Grantaire shook his head.  


“Combeferre is on his way, and we’ve called for an ambulance, you’ll be fine, just stay with me.”  


“I...I wish I... could.”  


“Enj, please, stay with me, don’t leave me here.” Grantaire pleaded.  


Enjolras smiled weakly, “I'll be waiting for you, mon 'Taire. But don't be too fast...” he gasped, “I love you.”  


“I love you too, Enj,” Grantaire could no longer hold back his tears, “Please, just stay with me. Just stay awake.”  


Enjolras just smiled sadly and gasped for breath, his breathing becoming ragged and shallower. Grantaire held him close, pleading with him to stay awake, stay with him. But he could not. After grimacing and spasming for a few more moments, he went still in Grantaire’s arms.  


“Enj?” he shook him gently, “Enj? No...no no no no, please, don’t leave me, Enj come on, please don’t leave me here alone. Enjolras please!” Grantaire began to sob into Enjolras’ chest. “Please, come back to me, I can’t do this without you.” his voice broke. He was sobbing uncontrollably, rocking back and forth.  
Combeferre and Courfeyrac finally made it through the crowd to him. Courfeyrac cursed loudly, looking around for any sign of the person who had done this. Combeferre gasped and knelt down next to Grantaire. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gently pulled him away.  


“Come on,” he whispered, “let’s go, the ambulance just got here, they’ll take care of it.”  


Grantaire shook his head, clinging tightly to Enjolras and sobbing loudly. It was a sound that Combeferre would hear in his nightmares for months. It was not the sound of crying, rather, it was the sound of someone who had their entire existence ripped from their very soul. An expression of pure, raw grief that echoed through the crowd, which had become still, and off the buildings. He somehow managed to coax Grantaire away, as the medics arrived. After taking a few steps, Grantaire collapsed to the ground, his cries interrupted by a fit of dry heaves. Combeferre rubbed his back gently.  


“I’m so sorry.” he said softly.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been a week since the funeral. The Amis had become a solemn group. They still met, more for each other’s support than to plan any protests or rallies. The meetings were quiet. “How’s Grantaire?” Feuilly asked. The other Amis looked to Combeferre, who had made it his task to see that Grantaire was taken care of.  


“Not good. Not good at all. He barely eats, he spends most of his days in bed. And, I fear, he’s not sleeping.”  


“That’s to be expected.” Courfeyrac said softly. “We should go visit him.”  


“I agree,” Joly said, “He needs to know we’re all here for him.”

Grantaire stared blankly at the ceiling. He was desperately trying not to fall back asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the event replayed in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he lost Enjolras again. The first night had been hell. Combeferre had Grantaire stay with him, but that had not prevented him from waking in the middle of the night, turning over to curl around that familiar figure, only to find himself alone and have the memories of that day flooding back.  


Now, over a week later, he was back home, but no closer to finding any semblance of peace. His days were empty- he rarely found the energy to do more than dress himself and drag himself out to the couch. He had no more tears. Just emptiness. He could barely react when Combeferre came over, daily, to check on him. Just a nod now and then. He did not meet the other Amis in the evening, or ask them to come over. Instead, he was trapped in his mind- wondering what he could have done differently, why he tried to take cover in the pub instead of the restaurant that was closer. _“Because you were drawn to the pub, winecask”_ a voice in his head kept saying. He tried to get rid of that thought. He had given up drinking for Enjolras, so the pub should not have been the draw. Why did he go that way? Why not turn the other way? But the thought that was eating away at him the most and causing the most pain: What now? What was he supposed to do now? He had never planned or even dared to consider life without Enjolras. The thought was a great dark pit that consumed his mind a little more each day.

The Amis visited, a couple at a time, every day. They talked about what they were doing, things that were happening, and what Grantaire should join them in, but he paid them little attention. Just an obligatory nod here and again. It had been a month, and all he had managed to do was pull himself out of bed everyday, at least for awhile, and muddle through the daily chores and errands. He still was not sleeping and, though he refrained in front of his friends, he had picked up the bottle again. This time, he did not find the comforting state of numbness- only heightened grief that he desperately tried to drink away- only to pass out and sink into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares.

It was two months after when Combeferre found the bottles. He sighed and threw them out. Grantaire was asleep on the couch, so he used the time to find the remaining alcohol and pour it out. When Grantaire stirred, Combeferre sat down next to him.  


“Grantaire, you have to stop. Enjolras would hate to see you like this. You gave up the bottle for him, remember? He wouldn’t want to see you go down that road again.”  


“What does it matter?” Grantaire said, softly. Combeferre put an arm around his shoulder. “It matters a lot, my friend. Look, I know you’re hurting, I do, but you have to find a way to start living again. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. We’re all here for you, you know that, so please, tell us what we need to do.”  


“It should have been me.” Grantaire said, his voice was soft, and the tone was so broken that Combeferre’s heart ached. “I lead him that direction, it should have been me.”  


“But it wasn’t, Grantaire, you had no way of knowing what would happen. And you know that he would never, ever want you to trade your life for his. He would want you to live.”  


“He was a stronger man than me. He’d be able to do that- but me... I’m...I’m weak, he’s the only reason I muddled through before. He cleaned me up, and now....” Grantaire could not finish his sentence, he collapsed against the couch, hands pressing against his eyes. 

Combeferre pulled him into a hug, “You’ll find a way. You will.”


End file.
